


three steps forward

by civillove



Series: plans wrapped in rubber bands [20]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 13:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19251823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/civillove/pseuds/civillove
Summary: Prompt from anon: Rio has something come up and asks Beth to pick up Marcus. Beth meets Marcus’ mom.  + another prompt from anon: Beth wearing Rio's clothes--Rio sighs into the receiver, taking a moment to himself before asking, “I need you to do somethin’ for me.” He’s talking through gritted teeth or his jaw is clenching, either one isn’t a good sign as he gets to the reason why he’s called her.Beth sets the basket down on the ground because it doesn’t seem like she’ll be needing it anymore—regardless if she wants to do whatever he wants or not, it doesn’t seem like he’s asking.“I need you to pick up Marcus from school.”





	three steps forward

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I can’t tell you how many people requested this (Beth meeting Marcus’s mom) and how many times I put it on the back burner because I wasn’t sure how to do it lol so here it is. Hope everyone enjoys! Thanks to all who’s reading, reviewing, leaving kudos or reblogging on tumblr. Means a lot! Huzzah. 
> 
> AN2: ALSO big shout out to Lauren because she’s lovely and listens to my ramblings (and also rambles with me). I appreciate you!

Beth only wakes up because she can’t stop coughing.

She sits up in bed fast, her arm reaching for the glass of water she thought she remembered on her nightstand, but she knocks it off in her distress. The only good thing about the glass shattering on her bedroom floor is that it’s empty, she’s not going to worry about it yet, and  leans against the headboard trying to catch her breath.

When she’s slightly calmer, a shaky hand reaches to turn on her bedside lamp before running her palm over her face.

Her heart is slamming in her ears as her eyes adjust to the sudden onslaught of light, hand resting on her chest when she takes long breaths into her lungs. Beth holds them there for a moment to get herself to calm down before letting them out, glancing at the glass on the floor before exiting the other side of the bed.

She slides her slippers on and grabs a dustpan from her closet, moving quickly to sweep up the glass as best she can. She’s going to have to wait until daylight to let as much light into the room as possible to vacuum up shards—she knows that breaking glass is sometimes the worst because tiny pieces always seem to find their way everywhere.

She chews on the bottom of her lip, grabbing her cell phone and walking into the bathroom. One glance at the time, twelve-thirty AM, tells her that she was only asleep a few hours. Beth pinches the bridge of her nose and sinks down against the tub, letting the cool tile soothe her feverish skin.

Her hands are shaking as she dials the number she knows off by heart, isn’t sure why she wants to call him, why the idea is so soothing to her when he’s part of the problem. Is it fucked up that she’s _calling_ the person who forced her back under the mud in her dream? Her nightmares have only been getting worse and it’s because of this new addition—

Of Rio pushing her back under, leaving her to drown.

Every time she tries to figure out why her subconscious is dragging her down this path, kicking and screaming, she feels herself get stuck at a wall she can’t climb over. Why is she suddenly dreaming about Rio hurting her when they’ve been _so good_ lately? Is it because she’s so used to everything falling apart around her?

She touches her throat, biting down hard on her lower lip, a strangled noise leaving her mouth because she’s not sure how much more she can take. Beth knows that Rio’s tried to talk to her about this before, that she just has to _get used to it—_ but she’s not sure how.

Not sure she wants to. How does she get used to feeling like this?

Rio makes a soft noise when he picks up the phone instead of saying any words and Beth closes her eyes, almost pictures herself next to him. She knows exactly what he looks like; lying in bed without a shirt, on his stomach, the long planes of his back visible as he leans up because the sheet slides down. There’s a soft crease that appears between his eyebrows because he squints when he’s half-asleep, perhaps a hand running over his face as he forces himself awake to speak with her.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” She whispers, her voice wavering just slightly. Of course she woke him up; she’s a little disoriented but she should have put two and two together before calling.

“Nah,” He clears the sleep from his throat, “What’s goin’ on?”

Beth’s quiet for a few moments, allowing her eyes to close and focuses on not doing something stupid like crying. She’s just _so_ tired of feeling like this. She swallows down a wave of emotion and rubs her forehead.

“Nothing, I uh…I just wanted to hear your voice.” At least that’s not exactly a lie.

Rio shifts on the phone, she can hear sheets ruffling and she wonders if he sits further up, maybe even turns to lean against the headboard. “You good?”

She smiles a little and stands up off the floor, going over to the sink to turn it on. Maybe if she splashes some water on her face she’ll feel a little more grounded. She sets the phone down on the counter, clicking the speaker button before pulling her hair back into a ponytail.

“Yeah, it’s been a long day.”

Beth cups her hands under the stream of water and splashes some on her face as Rio says, “Didn’t realize you were still up.”

At this point she’s already spun the web and she’s not about to tell him otherwise about going to sleep, about having the same nightmare; what would be the point? She likes how he makes her feel and she knows this is why her instinct was to call him in the first place—because they’re _good_ and what’s happening between them and their business is _good._ She needs to feel that in order to push that nightmare back where it belongs—underneath the mud to stay there.

“Costumes for a school play don’t make themselves.”

“Yeah?” There’s a hint of amusement to his voice, warm and comforting in all the right places. Beth grabs a hand towel to dry her face. “What you been makin’?”

“Jane’s a bumble bee.” She finds herself smiling a little, turning the water off in the sink and picking up her phone again to head back to bed. “She gets to sting someone on stage.”

A soft laugh sounds out of Rio’s throat and seems to crawl between her ribcage, filling up her chest. “Yeah that sounds about right.”

Beth’s quiet as she sits down in bed, her eyes looking over the side to where the glass fell. She’s trying to pick up missed shards with a single glance even though she knows that it’s pointless. Silence stretches between them but it’s not uncomfortable; it’s actually one of the things she likes about calling Rio. They can sit together, without talking, listening to one another move and breathe.

It’s almost like being in the same space.

Rio shuffles again and she imagines him adjusting sheets, “You sure you’re alright, mami?”

She settles back against the sheets and turns her light off, rolling onto her stomach to press her face into her pillow a moment. She wants to tell him no, wants to ask him if she can come over, wants anything other than trying to go back to sleep.

And yet,

“Yeah, I’m gonna go—got another long day of sewing tomorrow. Sorry again for waking you.”

“I’m sure I can think of a way you can make it up to me,” Rio’s smiling, she can hear it in his voice and she can’t help but roll her eyes, the edges of her own mouth tugging up. “Get some sleep.”

Beth keeps the phone to her ear for a few minutes after he hangs up, pulling back only to send a text to Annie:

_Need to talk to you tomorrow morning, bring bagels._

Her sister texts back ten minutes later, Beth’s phone face down on her pillow because she’s having trouble falling asleep. She glances at the response, _Oh shit, must be serious if it’s a carb emergency. I got you._

Beth sighs and puts her phone on the nightstand, forcing her eyes to close. She just hopes carbs and unloading on her sister is enough to help get her head back on straight.

\--

Annie puts too much cream cheese on her bagel—it’s kind of a sight to see as Beth leans against the counter with her cup of coffee to her lips. Literally it’s spilling over the edges of the knife as she tries to smear it over a slice.

“You’re just jealous because this’ll go straight to your thighs.” She comments, looking up at her with a quirky expression.

Beth smiles, a soft laugh leaving her lips. “Oh and it doesn’t for you?”

“Bagels and cream cheese don’t count,” She shrugs, “It’s one of those magical breakfast items that don’t add up towards your day.”

She grabs a blueberry bagel for herself and slices it in half, putting one piece into the toaster behind her. “You better not be telling my kids this.”

“I wouldn’t dare…” Then she pauses. “I may have told them that bacon doesn’t count though.” Beth looks over her shoulder at her and she puts her hands up, “ _What?_ It doesn’t. Maybe instead on judging the bad habits I’m instilling in your kids; you could tell me what’s wrong.”

Beth pauses as she pours more coffee into her mug, letting her thumb run along the rim for a moment. She knew that she wouldn’t be able to hide in small talk forever, she _did_ invite Annie over for a reason. She would have dragged Ruby over here too but her church has been planning a food drive for the past month and Beth can’t pull her away from that for this. She knows Annie has a big enough mouth to fill her in anyways.

She turns after getting her bagel from the toaster, setting it down on a plate and grabbing a knife. “I’ve been having this…nightmare.”

Annie raises an eyebrow and takes a too-big bite of her bagel. “About homeboy?”

She scrunches her nose and throws a napkin at her, “Will you cover your mouth?” Annie huffs out an indignant noise but does swallow her food and use said napkin. “And it’s…it’s not exactly about Rio.”

Beth takes in a deep breath before allowing everything to spill out, like a dam breaking, she tells her sister everything. About the man she accidently killed. About the motel. About Warez. About the dirt and the mud and the blood, _so much blood,_ choking her and drowning her every time she thinks she’s getting a breath of fresh air.

She details her last few dreams and about Rio; it’s like a flood, she can’t stop.

And Annie’s face is pale by the end of it, her hand coming down to rest on Beth’s with a firm squeeze.

“Jesus Beth, why would you keep all that in? No wonder you’re having Freddy Kreuger sized nightmares.”

She sighs and runs a hand over her face, thinking of a million answers _because I didn’t want you to think any less of me, because I thought I could handle it, because I was scared, because I didn’t want to ruin something going so well, because I felt weak_ but none of those come out of her mouth.

Instead, the easiest does, “I don’t know,” She whispers, letting her hand slip from her face so she can put cream cheese on her bagel. “Because I thought it’d…get better and it just seems to be getting worse.”

Annie scrunches her nose and suddenly pushes her food away as she gets a thought, “You’d think you’d be seeing a bunch of worms in all that mud. It’s not very realistic.” All Beth has to do is fix her with a look before she’s throwing her hands up, “Right not the point. Uh, so…how often have you been having this nightmare?”

She tries to trace it back and she knows it’s ever since she saw what happened to those two people in the motel, stress from her personal life and her partnership with Rio that sometimes has nothing to do with work probably making it all worse. The truth is that everything is starting to blend together—and no matter how much she wanted that? now she can’t help but feel overwhelmed that it’s all hitting her at once instead of cycling down through a funnel.

“Not as much as before,” She says instead of mapping out a timeline for her, “But when it happens, it’s _bad.”_

Beth thinks about hyperventilating in Rio’s motel room, his gentle fingers through her hair and soft lips against her forehead. She thinks about Marcus giving her his stuffed raptor like a well-loved dream catcher and how she’d woken up last night unable to breathe—her knee-jerk reaction to call him until she felt better. Talking about this with Annie has to help, it _has_ to.

“I think,” Annie says after a moment, licking cream cheese off her lower lip. “That it makes sense. As weird as it sounds, you and ga—” She stops herself and that’s when Beth knows she _must_ look rough if Annie’s willing to call Rio by his name, “ _Rio_ are trying to figure things out.”

She considers what she’s saying for a moment, holding her mug between both her hands to warm her palms, “Things have felt really good with him lately. Like…we seem to be on the same page.”

Annie raises an eyebrow, “In the same book too? No weird English to French translations?”

A soft laugh slips out of her mouth before she takes a bite out of her bagel as a response.

“Well I rest my case. Your nightmare is just trying to even everything out, dropping the other shoe so to speak.” She grins, taking a sip of her coffee. “That was some therapist shit right there, you know some people charge by the hour for that.”

Beth rolls her eyes but she’s smiling, pouring herself a little more coffee before she has to cut herself off. “You know it’s past nine right, you told me to remind you about your shift?”

Annie’s eyes widen and she’s suddenly up off the counter chair and grabbing her phone to put into her pocket. “Damn it, I don’t think I’m going to make it in time again. Think they’ll fire me if I just stay?”

She giggles, putting the cream cheese away in the fridge. “One can only hope, right?”

Her sister groans before glancing at Beth’s half-eaten bagel with keen interest and she just sighs because Annie doesn’t even need to say anything for her to know what she’s thinking.

“Just take it, you’re going to be late.”

Annie grins and rounds the counter haphazardly to grab the bagel and somehow kiss her cheek at the same time, “You’re the best! Never change, only grow!” She comments as she runs from her kitchen to her front door, leaving quickly.

Beth smirks a little at her sister’s shenanigans, left with nothing but the silence of her house settling to keep her company. She presses her chin onto the palm of her hand as her elbow leans on the counter, watching as milk blooms like a storm when she pours it into her coffee cup. What Annie was describing with her nightmares and Rio—it sounds so simple to believe that’s really going on.

She wants that to be the reason more than anything to explain him pushing her back under the mud but she’s almost afraid that it’s too easy.

\--

It’s days where Beth finds herself in a craft store, staring at two colors that look _exactly_ alike, that she misses not handling business with Rio. It’s not that she doesn’t enjoy days off, especially from the dealership, but sometimes she remembers how she used to use crafting as a way to escape.

Ironically, she finds herself thinking about Dean as she stands in the middle of a fabric aisle for Jane’s costume. The play isn’t for another month but it’s that span of time that makes her think about what her life will look like by then. Ever since Jane’s birthday party, Dean’s done his best to make himself scarce, which means they haven’t talked about the terms of divorce in a while either. He’s moved out a long time ago but he’s always been known to linger when he picks the kids up or drops them off—now? it’s like he can’t get out of the house fast enough.

She can assume that all the understanding they’ve come to has gone up in smoke—Dean didn’t trust Rio before but she can’t imagine what he thinks about him now.

How their relationship has changed into something else, something more than business and now Dean knows it even without all the details. Beth wants to confront him about it, to ask him where this leaves their family but she’s afraid of creating waves when there aren’t any. She knows it’s only a matter of time—the way he _looked_ at her at their daughter’s birthday party, the betrayal and disgust clouding his eyes before Rio came into the kitchen…that’s not just going to go away despite her wanting it to.

He’s going to force her to choose again and she just…she can’t think about that now, not on top of everything else.

So standing in front of these yellow fabrics? Much easier.

_Golden Yellow_ and _Yellow Sunshine_ are staring her in the face and she’s overwhelmed with how mundane this all feels. Beth knows she’s here for a reason and not just to distract herself, that she’s never going to be that person again who needed to bake or sew or strongarm PTA meetings just to feel useful.

This shouldn’t so hard…obviously _Yellow Sunshine_ is the way to go…right? Her hand reaches out to touch the material and then her phone rings, which is something she’d rather answer than have a mini life-crisis over matching the best fabric for a bee. The number’s blocked and a soft smile tugs at the ends of her mouth as she brings the phone up to her ear,

“Perfect timing, you’re saving me from yellow swatches.”

It’s quiet for a moment over the line, the sound of shuffling and muffled voices before a door closes, “Swatches?”

She purses her lips, “Yeah you know like…squares made out of material.”

There’s a hint of amusement in his tone, “Yeah I know what a swatch is, I’m just confused as to how they’re attackin’ you right now.”

“Clearly you’ve never been in a fabric aisle before.” She mumbles, fingering a different yellow labeled _Daffodil_ and lets out a soft sigh through her nose.

She hears a subtle creaking and Rio must pull the phone away from his ear because his voice is softer as he says _I told you to wait outside, do I look done to you?_ She runs a hand through her hair, waiting, not wanting to speak if he’s busy talking to someone else. There’s a vague question as to why he’s called floating in the back of her mind.

“Lemme guess, you’re stuck between two yellows.” He says and his syllables are still pinched with slight irritation but he’s trying to soften his tone while speaking to her.  

Beth scoffs out a sound and turns to look over her shoulder, curling her hair around her ear, “Alright, please don’t tell me you’re stalking me from another aisle—that takes the ‘neighborhood watch’ routine to whole new level.”

“Nah,” A soft, barely there laugh leaves his lips. “Just know you.”

She can’t help but smile, chewing on her lower lip before she picks up _Golden Yellow_ to put into her basket. “Or you have some sort of weird Fabric ESP.”

Beth begins walking away from the swatches when she hears a loud bump on the other end of the phone, like someone’s thrown a door open. There’s movement, muffled noises and once again she can tell Rio’s taken the phone away from his ear.

_Nah, tell him I don’t want to deal with him anymore. He can fuck off with his extra two grand, I don’t give a shit._

He’s talking fast; whatever’s going on has him upset, riled up, his tongue sliding over the language in a way that quickens her heartbeat. She pauses and leans against a display for sewing machines, wants to ask him if he’s alright but she figures she knows what the answer will be.

_Aight, I’ll be down in a minute. No, Aviles, if they can’t handle a minute then I’m not takin’ my time to do a damn deal—he got a lot of nerve implyin’ I’m wastin’ his time. Handle it._

Rio sighs into the receiver, taking a moment to himself before asking, “I need you to do somethin’ for me.” He’s talking through gritted teeth or his jaw is clenching, either one isn’t a good sign as he gets to the reason why he’s called her.

Beth sets the basket down on the ground because it doesn’t seem like she’ll be needing it anymore—regardless if she wants to do whatever he wants or not, it doesn’t seem like he’s asking.

“I need you to pick up Marcus from school.” There’s something in his voice, an underlying rod of steel bounding his words together at the prospect of having to ask her to do this. He doesn’t want her to because despite everything; despite where they’re trying to go in figuring this thing out together and she knows how personal this is.

It took him forever to just to allow her into his home, to spend so much time with his son, to _talk_ about him where he wasn’t trying to deflect the conversation elsewhere and this? this is hard for him. But Beth figures he wouldn’t be asking her if he had any other choice.

She opens her mouth to reply but he continues with his train of thought, “My sitter won’t pick up her phone and I can’t send Aviles because Marcus won’t get into a car with someone he doesn’t know.”

_And he knows you_ hangs loosely in the air between them, like a string connecting their call.

“Of course,” She says suddenly because even though she’s sure he doesn’t need to hear it, she wants to tell him anyways, “You know I will.”

Rio lets out a slow breath and clicks his tongue off the roof of his mouth before he speaks again, “I’ll send you the school address and then where to take him.”

“I can take him back to my house,” She offers, trying to make this easier.

“Nah,” He says quickly. “It’s cool.” There’s a pause between them to the point where Beth thinks he’s hung up before, “Thank you, Elizabeth.”

She smiles a little, humming as she sticks her one hand in her pocket to fish out her car keys when she walks towards the exit of the fabric store. “Wait, was that a ‘thank you’?” She teases, voice saturated with amusement. “Can you say it again so I can record it?”

He scoffs but when he speaks she can tell he’s smiling, “I got enough shit to deal with today, don’t be addin’ onto it mama or I won’t be savin’ you from color swatches anytime soon.”

Rio hangs up after that and Beth goes back to her van with a soft smile that won’t leave her face as she waits for the text instructions.

\--

Beth is three minutes early to Marcus’s school, the campus quiet with a gentle wind blowing through the trees as she parks her van a few spaces down from where other parents are waiting. She gets out and curls her hair around her ear, a soft sigh leaving her lips as she observes the school’s wide lawn that leads up to a white building with beautiful architecture. It’s a nice school, she can tell from the outside, but she’s not surprised.

The fact that Rio lived in a lush apartment nearly threw her off her feet, the fact that he’d pay for an equally decent education for his son is only fitting. She thinks about that a lot, how Rio provides for him, and knows this is one of the things that they really have in common. Maybe it’s all for the same thing, their business, for the same reasons: to provide for their children. It’s all for family.

And well, because it’s enjoyable too—saves her from a cookie-cutter lifestyle where she feels despondent. She thinks in the end that’s why she couldn’t stay away and while everything is a mess now in her personal life, a lot of things up in the air unable to come down, it’s somehow better than the latter.

Beth crosses her arms over her chest as a bell rings, the school doors opening a few moments later to a ton of kids rushing down the steps to their parents or busses. She tilts her head, looking for a head of messy brown hair and a bright grin that could fill up a room.

He’s one of the last kids to exit, holding onto what looks like an art piece in his hands as he pauses on the last step. Marcus scans the crowd, most likely searching for his dad but when his eyes fall on her he _grins_ and takes off at a speed so fast that he nearly topples her over when he hugs her.

Beth laughs and wraps her arms around him, squeezing his shoulders as he says a muffled, “Hi, Ms. Beth!” into her torso.

“Hi,” She ruffles his hair before helping him into the van, “Sorry your dad couldn’t make it; he got caught up.”

“That’s okay, I wanna show you my dino drawing anyways.” He shows her the picture in his hands as she makes sure he’s buckled in; a very detailed plant life filling the scene with saturated blues and greens.

She spots a few dinos and smiles softly because, he’s very talented. She’s never really asked him what he’s wanted to be when he grew up but she wouldn’t be surprised if he said something like archaeologist. Beth hands him a little baggie of goldfish before she closes the door and climbs into the front seat. She checks the address one more time before pulling out of the school, where they need to go only a few minutes away.

She listens to him munch away before, “Ms. Beth?” Beth turns her head to look at him as they stop at a red light.  “Is my…dad okay?”

Something pulls down on her chest, hard, at the concept that Marcus is much more observant than he seems. It reminds her that while she thinks she can keep the different life choices she’s making from her kids; with work, with Dean, with Rio, that they can and will sense when things change.

Beth pushes her foot on the gas as the light changes, trying to think of how to say this.

“Marcus, I promise your dad is fine. He told me he’d pick you up tomorrow morning just like usual, okay?” She offers and wishes her voice was stronger than it feels. In all honesty, Beth’s been thinking about this a lot lately.

Ever since she started spending more time with the both of them, waking up with Rio next to her, making waffles with his son in his apartment—the concept of losing Rio, of something happening that takes him away from Marcus, the idea of his little face screwing up with tears—

She squeezes the steering wheel and pulls the car over, letting out a slow breath as she checks the address to what Rio’s given her. Yeah, she can’t think about that right now.

They’re here—a tiny white house with a picket fence and stained glass windchimes hanging out front. She smiles at him over her shoulder and helps him out of the van, Marcus running ahead to knock on the door.

Beth hovers on the porch, her eyes glazing over small potted plants and succulents, soccer balls and patio sets that remind her of her own—she tries to think of the last time she just relaxed with a cup of coffee or glass of iced tea but realizes it’s been _way_ too long to the point that it feels like another lifetime. Another version of her.

When the door opens and Marcus rushes in to hug a woman around her legs, she’s just about to smile and leave when she hears it—

“Momma!”

And Beth freezes, literally turns to ice on the top step, her eyes fixing on the woman who still has her hand on the doorknob. She’s laughing, her arms sliding around her son _this is her son_ before she looks up and they make eye contact. The first thing Beth notices is that their eyes are the same, the same dark and warm beautiful brown that seems to draw you in and hold you. She’s got long dark hair, big fat curls that sit on her shoulders and look so soft even from where Beth is standing.

She’s got an open smile, even from looking at her, this random woman on her porch who brought her son home and suddenly she’s overwhelmed with so many emotions because why didn’t Rio _tell her_ this is who she’d be dropping Marcus off with?

Marcus’s mother runs a hand through her son’s hair before motioning him inside, moving to lean against the doorframe, her eyes traveling over her. “From the confused look on your face, I take it you must be Beth.”

Oh god, and she’s never wanted anything more for the floor to open up and swallow her whole. She _knows who she is?_ Her mouth must do that thing where it opens and closes like a goldfish and she can feel her cheeks tint pink because this woman smiles at her, a soft laugh leaving her lips at her distress.

“I’m Lana; why don’t you come on in?” She takes a step back from the door and licks her lips, “It’d be nice to meet the woman Marcus talks about all the time.”

Beth stands there for what feels like the longest moments, thinking of a million ways in which she can decline—but in the end, she knows she can’t say no. She’s going to _kill_ Rio for putting her into this awkward position; she wants to give him the benefit of the doubt of a stressful day in which he didn’t give her all the details but she has a feeling he did this on purpose. Always trying to throw her off balance.

She clears her throat and nods her head, taking her time to walk past her into her home as the door closes behind her. She doesn’t know why she’s so surprised that Marcus’s mother, _Lana,_ is as lovely as she figured she would be. She’s got this warm aura around her as they walk slowly through the house to the kitchen and smells like honeysuckles, the scent almost overwhelmingly homey. Beth can’t believe that she actually thought Carlita might be Marcus’s mother now that she’s face to face with the real thing.

“Do you like tea?”

She smiles a little and nods, bites her tongue hard on saying something about how she’s had to acclimate to the taste because that’s all Rio has in his place.

“Sure, black before green if you have it.”

Lana hums a little and curls her hair around her ear, “I think that can be arranged.”

She watches her sort out mugs, her eyes having so much sensory input to process that she has to sit down at the counter. The kitchen is a warm green with accents of sunflowers, there’s definitely family pictures of Lana, Rio and Marcus on the fridge and she wonders if she got close enough she’d see that smile she always sees when he’s around his son. Are these all over the house? Is the living room mantle decorated with Christmases, birthdays, days at the park and days at home?

How different will Rio look—will that tension in his shoulders be gone? Will he be a more relaxed, happier, more care-free version of himself? Or will she recognize that same look in his eyes?

Beth wants to ask so many questions that she has to physically bite down on the inside of her cheek: how long have they been separated? How did they come to such a great agreement between the two of them? Was divorce as hard as it looks like it’s going to be for her? She wants advice, she wants to ask Lana about when she first met Rio, if he was as charming and mesmerizing as she recalls first meeting him in her kitchen (even though he had a gun at the time).

“I’m sorry for overwhelming you.” Lana says suddenly, setting the steaming mug of tea in front of her.

Beth blinks and tries to dig words out from under her tongue. “No, _I’m_ sorry—I just didn’t—”

“Christopher has always been very secretive.” There’s that name again; all this time she wondered if Rio was lying about that too but…doesn’t seem to be. It feels weird to call him that, like that’s not the version of him that she knows. “I’m not surprised that he didn’t tell you this is where you were dropping Marcus off. Honey?”

She nods and takes the honey when it’s handed to her, letting the steam curl out of her mug and kiss her cheeks before she adds some to her cup. She stirs it in slowly, chewing on her lower lip. Beth’s never felt like she’s been in a position where she doesn’t know what to say—she can adapt, think on her feet, that’s one of the reasons she really started working with Rio in the first place.

But now? It’s like the words don’t exist for her to say them.

“Do you work with him in the same business?”

Beth’s eyes flutter to Lana’s, her walls going up. “Sorry?”

She smiles, her lips hovering along the edge of her teacup before taking a sip. “Antiquing?”

The moment the word leaves Lana’s mouth, she can tell that they’re both on the same page. She knows exactly what kind of work Rio does and what Beth’s involved with; her eyes are so expressive, so deep in the sense that she feels like she’s sinking under water the more she looks at them.

“Yeah, I uh…for a while now.” That’s all she can say because while she knows they’re speaking the same language; she still keeps her walls up for a reason.

She doesn’t know Lana; isn’t quite sure of the relationship she has with Rio even though they seem to be on good terms with equal time with their son. But other than that? Nothing—and she’ll protect the business she has with Rio above all that.

There’s an unbridled awkwardness that Beth tries to cover up by sipping her tea, straightening her back as she sits at the counter. She can’t ask all the questions she wants to and the longer they remain under her tongue the more it feels like they’re seeping into her body and tying like string around her organs, squishing her.

“Well it must be going well,” Lana says after a moment, thankfully not pressing her for details, “otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

Beth licks her lips, her hands wrapping around the mug of her tea; she’s not sure how to take that. Lana must read the expression on her face like words printed on her skin, so good at peeling her layers back just like Rio, doesn’t need to ask to know what she’s thinking.

“I just mean, there are two things that Christopher cares about: his son and his business. If he’s letting you be involved in both? He clearly cares about you too.”

She lets out a long breath; _is it clear, though?_ Ironically, she’s wanted someone to talk about Rio with, thought it might be her sister or Ruby and it’s going to end up being his ex-wife. Her head is spinning with possibilities and instead of stopping herself, of getting up and gently excusing herself from this kitchen, she decides to dive in headfirst.

If Lana is open to talking about her? then she won’t mind a few questions thrown in her direction, “Please don’t take this the wrong way but…what _happened_ between you two? He doesn’t talk about you.”

She smiles, that idea isn’t insulting to her. “No, he wouldn’t.” She hums and adds a little more honey to her mug. “He keeps things right here,” She puts a hand on her chest, over her ribcage, “And rarely pulls back to let anyone else in. That was part of our problem.”

Lana stands and goes to the cupboard near the sink to pull out a tray of pound cake and Beth finds herself smiling softly as it’s set in front of her. The longer she sits there, settling into the chair at the counter, opening one another up—the more comfortable she begins to feel. She can’t say no to the sweets so she takes a small piece, nodding her head in thanks before sipping her tea.

She takes a soft breath and Beth can tell she’s trying to figure out how to talk about Rio, that same look passing over her face that he sometimes gets when he’s chewing on a thought and whether or not he wants to let her in or not.

“He and I were perfect once; he was a good man and a good father. We were happy,” She says simply, shrugging her one shoulder. “But the timing was where everything was wrong—things fall apart, as they do.”

Beth swallows and nods her head, looks down at her tea and somehow finds herself transfixed as she stirs it. “I get that. I really do.” Because she does—Lana has somehow not told her any specifics about her relationship with Rio and yet she understands every part of it.

Because isn’t that what eventually happened with Dean?

They were happy, their family was perfect and then, in the blink of an eye, it wasn’t.

She looks down at her cup, a soft smile tugging at the end of her mouth as she hears Marcus running around upstairs. She wonders what he’s doing, if he’s playing pretend like Jane and her other younger kids still do.

Beth finds it hard to believe that Lana’s okay with all of this; that she’s happy with the idea of another random woman spending so much time with her son. She seems to know Rio, though, that concept of trust sticking out in her mind like a pin and she wants to agree that she’s _earned_ some sort of spot in his life, that he wouldn’t allow her to even talk to Marcus if he didn’t want her to.

But still…

“You’re okay with…” She trails off and Lana raises an eyebrow.

“With you making breakfast with my son?” She laughs softly and takes some pound cake for herself, “Honey, if I didn’t want that, you’d know. Trust me.” She takes a bite and licks sugar off her lips, “Christopher’s good at reading people, I may not have been able to trust him with a lot, but he’s honest about that.”

“Sometimes it feels like he can…” Beth touches her chest and Lana nods.

“See right through you,” She finishes for her, moving to put the cake away. “I know.”

“I guess I just…I don’t know what I’m doing.” She says suddenly, biting her tongue on saying anything else more specific. How does she tell Rio’s ex that she’s…that she’s trying to fit their relationship into the life she currently has?

But Lana seems to already know, of course she knows, because she’s _looking_ at her with empathy and warmth and something that tells her she’s been there before. Her past with Rio is none of her business; she’s not about to tear open wounds that probably took so long to heal. Beth knows about scars, knows how they fester and itch and how to tear them back open until it feels like they won’t ever be gone.

She doesn’t want Rio to become a scar but doesn’t know how to stop it from happening either.

Lana lets out a long breath, moving to grab the tea kettle to pour more hot water. “I want you to be careful.” She says and sits across from her. “I know what it’s like to be around him, to fall into his eyes, his touch, his lifestyle. He’s magnetic and I know that you care about him.”

Beth swallows, waits for the ‘but’ that she knows is coming.

“But that also means you find yourself doing things, sacrificing parts of yourself you thought you never would.”

She takes a sip of her tea because she doesn’t know what to do, the distraction of the too hot liquid burning her lower lip and tongue incredibly welcoming as she thinks about the things she’s done since Rio came into her life. She doesn’t blame him, not exactly, but knows his influence is there—that he’s coerced darker parts of herself out into the open and nourished them instead of trying to bury them. These nightmares she’s been having are in direct result of that.

“I’m sorry that I’m…no one really understands what it’s like,” Beth says after a moment, her eyes flickering up to Lana’s, “How I feel when I’m with him,” And she means as partners _and_ what they’re trying to figure out, “it’s like the earth underneath me keeps moving, shifting, cracking open like it might swallow me whole. I just want to stand still for once.”

Lana watches her for a long moment before shaking her head, her hand falling to Beth’s on top of the counter. She runs her thumb over her knuckles before, “When you love someone, you don’t have that sort of control. That’s what this thing is…it makes you powerless.”

She feels all the color drain from her face, her other hand shaking under the table. Love? No wait—

“I don’t…” She can’t finish her sentence, the words trapped or disintegrated under her tongue; her throat feels tight.

The other woman smiles softly, knowingly, lifting her hand off hers, “You want more tea?”

Beth closes her eyes a moment and just nods.

\--

She doesn’t know how to unpack information given to her like that and she wonders if she just…shouldn’t. Just because Lana said it doesn’t mean she has to accept it. Does she love him? Just like everything else when it comes to Rio, it’s not a simple answer. She doesn’t know—she’s so tired of not knowing, of operating out of a shade of gray that seems to get darker and darker by the day.

Beth cares about him, she knows how it feels when she’s with him, how heated her body gets when he looks at her, that she enjoys having sex and that there’s this warmth that fills her entire chest up when he touches her, protects her, works with her, _listens_ to her—but is that love? Is that what love looks like? Does it live in the way he kisses her, or the way she makes waffles with him and Marcus? Is it in the way he teaches her how to do a drop correctly, or hold a gun, how to aim it? Is it in those nicknames that roll off his tongue, that soft smile he does just for her, the way he holds her when she cries?

Has it been there this entire time and she hasn’t seen it?

Beth sighs and slips a t-shirt over her head, letting the fabric brush the top of her naked thighs. She pauses and pinches the bridge of her nose, getting a headache from thinking about this too much.

She can’t answer that question because she can’t answer the one started this whole thing: does she love him? Beth loves how he makes her feel and she’s never tried to deny that…maybe that’s enough for now.

She walks out of Rio’s closet, her bare feet gently padding against the wooden floor as she goes into his living room and sits on his couch. It feels late even though she knows it’s not even past nine, clicking things off in her mind to make sure she doesn’t have to be anywhere else before she gets comfortable. Most of the kids have obligations tonight that Dean assured her he’d take care of while she lies through her teeth about being at Ruby’s. Is there even a point in lying anymore?

They both know where she’s ending her nights.

She puts a hand over her face again and blocks the light out, hoping to get this pinching sensation from behind her eyes to disappear with a few circular rubs at her temples. Part of her wants to go through Rio’s alcohol selection and pop a bottle of red open if he has one but the other half of her is too lazy to move.

Beth hears the door open and close; keys being set down on the table near the kitchen and pulls the hand away from her face to see Rio wander in. He looks exhausted and yet still just as handsome as memory serves, taking his beanie off to throw at a chair near the couch. There’s a smirk tugging the ends of his mouth as his eyes trail over her form, in his clothes.

“You just walk around like you own the place, huh.” It’s not a question.

She smiles a little and shrugs her one shoulder. “Consider it payback for not telling me where I was dropping off Marcus today.”

He completely ignores her comment by humming, toeing off his shoes before walking slowly towards her, eyes never leaving hers. “You know I could give you space in my closet, you could keep a few things here.”

Beth licks her lips at the proposition, leaning back against the couch until she’s lying down, head on the armrest. Rio kneels beside the couch, his arms creating a cage around her body, chest against her own—he smells like cologne, metal and skin; intoxicating in all the right ways. A hand rests by her face, thumb tracing her cheekbone.

“I like wearing your clothes.” She admits softly.

He smiles, licking his lips, “Oh trust me, I like it too.”

She tips her chin up to kiss him, briefly before pulling away. Beth’s hand cups his face as well, strokes along his jawline before pressing her mouth there. He sighs out softly, moving his body until he’s lying down on top of her, careful with distributing his own weight so he doesn’t crush her.

“Did everything work out?” She says, her lips brushing along his skin before she pulls back so their eyes can meet. “With whatever kept you this afternoon.”

Rio rolls his eyes a little, dipping his chin so he can kiss the fingers against his face. “I didn’t have to kill anyone if that’s what you mean, though it was touch n’go for a while there. People be tryin’ my patience.” His voice dips a little softer since they’re pressed together, a little raspy in a way that makes her stomach flutter.

She wants to ask what the meeting was about but something more prominent pushes itself to the surface, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He doesn’t have to ask her what she’s talking about and he shifts a little on top of her, his leg sliding between her own, “Because I needed you to do somethin’ without the thousand of questions that come with it.”

That’s not fair but she bites her tongue on saying that, instead, “It was about Marcus, I would have done it anyways.”

Rio pulls back from her, sitting up on the couch to undo his jean jacket. “You meetin’ Lana would have had to happen sooner or later.” He shrugs.

“I just would have liked not to have been caught off guard,” She sits up too, curling her hair around her ear, “That’s all.”

He stands and tosses his jean jacket to the chair where his beanie is and turns to look at her, chewing on his lower lip as his eyes travel over the shirt on her body. Beth sits on the couch properly, her legs hanging over the sides, his shirt tugged up on the one side to expose her thigh.

She feels heat curls in her stomach, knows he sees it, knows that’s what he’s staring at. She clears her throat, warmth traveling along the back of her neck.

“What’d you guys talk about?” He asks but he already knows, moves again slowly so she can track every single one of his movements as he sinks to his knees on the floor, right in front of her.

Beth doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of saying it was about him but she can’t deny it either, “I wanted to know why you two separated.”

If she’s striking a nerve, Rio doesn’t let her see. Instead he does what he does best which is distract her with more tactile moves, his hand gliding up between her legs, prying them apart slightly.

“Lana…she’s everything I’m not, we’re the complete opposite.” He says softly and leans down, presses a kiss above her knee. Beth swallows and allows her hand to travel to his shoulder, thumb brushing along his neck. “But you and me, ma? we’re two sides of the same coin. And that’s why it works.”

“It’s really hard to concentrate while you’re between my legs.” She says pointedly, even though her legs spread a little accommodate him and he smiles, slow like the devil before pillowing his chin on the palm of his hand.

“You want me to stop?” He asks but doesn’t wait for an answer, “Nah?”

And while she wants to have this conversation, she’d much rather have an orgasm.

She rolls her eyes and huffs out a noise that makes him laugh, just slightly, hot breath against the inside of her thighs. And maybe that’s the whole point—maybe she _is_ worrying too much about trying to define this whole thing, trying to figure out if she loves him; it’s too much, way too much. They’ve got time and if she’s learned anything? It’s that things get ruined when you hold them too tight, too close for too long.

Things shatter and that’s the last thing she wants to do to this.

She can live in a shade of gray a little bit longer.

Rio sinks between her legs, tugging _his_ shirt up that’s resting on her thighs so that her underwear is exposed. His thumbs slip underneath at her hips and tug the fabric down, Beth lifting her hips so he can easily take them off. The cool air against heated, moist flesh makes her shiver and he wraps his arms around her lower waist to tug her closer towards the end of the couch.

He looks up at her, all long eyelashes and dark eyes before slipping between her thighs to kiss her stomach. He goes lower, taking his time, the scruff on his jawline and chin tickling her soft skin, heat beginning to pound right at her center, threatening to set her entire body on fire.

Rio’s tongue traces the outline of her lips and Beth’s response is instant, her back arching as she leans back against the couch. She rolls her hips forward, his tongue sneaking inside and circling her clit. Her hand comes down hard on his shoulder, gathering fabric up between her fingers. She doesn’t know why she even tries to last with his mouth on her, he seems to know exactly what to do, how to read the reactions of her body.

His hands soothe along her thighs, keeping them against the couch as his tongue works, his breathing a little insistent as her moans get louder. His name leaves her lips over and over, her climax building in her chest and exploding outward—he doesn’t give her a moment to relax, keeps circling his tongue until she has to push him away.

Beth brings her knees together, panting, her hair fanning over her face and almost creating a curtain. Rio leans up and clasps the side of her neck, searching for her lips to kiss her, albeit a bit messily—probably because he’s turned on. A soft sound leaves her lips, she wants to reach for him but he makes a noise that tells her to stop, so she does. He then presses a kiss to her forehead before he pulls away from her.

She sighs and leans back against the couch, running a hand over her face as she stands on shaky legs to pull her underwear on. When he comes back, he’s in a pair of black joggers and a maroon t-shirt, her favorite color on him and sinks down into the cushions of the couch before pulling her onto his chest.

Beth melts against him, her head slipping to the spot between his shoulder and chin, her nose pressing against the pulse point in his neck. Rio sighs gently, hand lacing itself in her hair as he pulls a blanket down from the back of the couch to cover them.

Her hand rests against his chest, her fingers playing with fabric above his heartbeat. She remembers a warning Lana gave her, something that keeps sticking out in her mind even now, safely tucked between his legs on his couch.

She looks up at him, her body sated and exhausted. “She told me to be careful.”

Rio lets out a long sigh and she can feel the muscles in his jaw working as he looks down at her. He brushes his lips along the bridge of her nose before pressing a kiss there, “Yeah, that’s probably not bad advice.”

Beth tries not to think about his response as she falls asleep.

\--

This time when she wakes up coughing, she needs to sit up because she’s still on Rio’s chest on the couch. The room is submerged in darkness and her fingernails claw at her neck because she can’t _breathe,_ she can’t get her heartbeat out of her ears.

Rio is quick to turn a light on somewhere, the soft dim enough to hurt her eyes as she leans back against the black leather. He’s disoriented, confused, but he seems to know well enough to stand up, “Hold on, I’ll get you some water.” And disappears into the kitchen.

A soft whimper leaves her lips, closing her eyes shut tight against her nightmare, forcing it back down where it belongs. She jumps when she feels Rio’s hand on her shoulders, soft circles rubbing as the other hands her a glass of water.

She drinks it greedily, a soft ‘easy’ leaving his lips as her body trembles. When she puts the glass down, she’s left gasping, her one hand still at her throat as he rubs her back, trying to get her to unwind. There’s a crease between his eyebrows as he watches her, still half-asleep, running a hand over his hair before pinching the bridge of his nose.

It takes her a little to calm down, but when she does she’s embarrassed, cheeks dotted pink at waking him up like that. She can’t even find the words to apologize, just leans forward and puts her face in her hands as her elbows rest on her knees.

Rio’s quiet for a moment, fingers traveling up and down her spine before he clears his throat. “I know what it’s like to have bad dreams that stick around but this…this is somethin’ different.” He says after a moment, voice still streaked with sleep. “What aren’t you tellin’ me?”

She shakes her head, pulling her face out of her hands. She glances over her shoulder at him and has no idea why she even bothers saying, “Nothing.”

His eyes narrow for a moment and it looks like he might count to five in his head before responding. “Don’t pull that shit with me Elizabeth. Is this why you called me last night? You weren’t still up, you were dealin’ with this.”

Beth doesn’t want to tell him, not after everything they’re trying to figure out. She doesn’t understand why her subconscious is working through her stress this way; she knows she’s afraid but…not of him, not of the way he makes her feel. She just keeps thinking back to her conversation with Annie, about waiting for that other shoe to drop—but she has a feeling he won’t be so understanding.

“Every time I come up for air, you’re on the bank—pushing me back under the mud.”

Rio stares at her a long moment, his eyes holding a distant coldness that makes her feel like ice has kissed her skin. There’s an emotion there she can’t quite capture—it’s not disappointment but he’s…he’s _hurt._

“You don’t trust me.”

Beth swallows and shakes her head but she feels like she’s trying to grab onto fog, vapor, between her fingertips. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Why is it when they take three steps forward they always have to take six steps back?

She can literally feel the walls start to go up around him, that tension in his jawline, that same look in his eyes when he asked her to leave that feels like so long ago. She refuses to get to that point; her relationships disintegrate because of a lack of communication and they’ve come so far for what? to end up back at square one?

She stands suddenly, reaching both hands out in front of her. “Come take a shower with me.”

He stares at her, fingers twitching on his lap. “Nah, I’m good.”

“Rio,” She says slowly, her hands still hovering. “Please.”

He swallows and licks his lips, his eyes falling to her hands. She doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath until he takes them, Beth pulling him up off the couch. He follows her into the bathroom and leans against the counter as she turns the water on in his beautiful stand-in shower. It’s tiled green from top to bottom and the showerhead is a wide square that had to be expensive. She almost makes a joke about the amount of water settings he probably has but he still looks like he’s teetering on being frustrated and angry with her that she decides against it.

Instead, she lets the shower heat up and moves to stand in front of him. Her hands rest on his hips, body tight and uncomfortable, even as she slips her fingers under his shirt and takes it off him. Her hand rests against the warmth of his chest, playing with the chain he wears and waits—

He responds by taking her shirt off; slow and careful movements.

They undress one another, piece by piece, until they’re both naked and she takes his hand to pull him into the shower.

The glass door closes behind them and Beth lets out a soft sigh as hot water hits her shoulders, unknotting them, slipping her fingers through her hair to push it out of her face. Rio’s watching her, gently pushing a random strand she’s missed behind her ear. Water droplets hit his skin and she’s almost mesmerized by watching them travel down the curves of his body, her hands following before wrapping her arms around his waist, like she’s worried he might try to po;leave.

“I do trust you,” She whispers and he shakes his head, running a hand over the lower half of his face. “I _do.”_ Beth swallows, closing her eyes a moment as she adds, “I’m just scared. This thing between us, whatever it is, it’s—messy and complicated and terrifying and this is how I’m working through it.”

Rio starts to relax, she can feel his muscles go one by one, taking a closer step towards her as she talks. “By havin’ me kill you?” But his voice is lighter, slightly teasing.

“You’re acting like you haven’t threatened to do that before,” She points out, giving him a soft eyeroll.

The corner of his lips pull into a smile, “I’m just makin’ sure I’m followin’ this thought process.” His hands fall to her hips, thumb rubbing at the bone there, pulling her closer until they’re both tucked under the stream.

Beth takes a moment to press herself up on her toes to kiss him, slow and gentle like she’s memorizing the way his lips move. He cups her back, hand in her hair, holding her to him until they need to pull apart to breathe.

“We’re good right?” She asks, fingers playing with the bottom half of his chain.

It takes him a moment but he nods, hand wrapping around hers and squeezing, “We’re good.”

And with that she lets the hot water rinse the remaining bad thoughts from her nightmare towards the drain.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to everyone who's reading, leaving kudos and leaving comments. I appreciate all of you! please don't hesitate to come talk to me on tumblr (or leave a prompt!) blainesebastian.tumblr.com/ask


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